My Hunt Continues
by SovereignGFC
Summary: Awakened from imprisonment, the Nephalem find themselves in a completely different world that has the same familiar problem: demons. Rated M for sci-fi/fantasy violence (just look at the source material!)
1. Blood Dawn

A/N: Just like the Frozen short, no guarantees this will get finished or see regular updates.

**Chapter 1 – Blood Dawn**

Another ordinary day at Mars City Secondary Artifact Storage. Another boring routine of making sure nobody chipped any of the many items dug up at various excavation sites across Mars. Truth be told, if it was in _Secondary_ Artifact Storage, it couldn't be all that interesting—anything worth of attention that might lead to praise or promotions got transferred to Primary Artifact Storage or Delta Labs.

Dr. Casey Phillips, PhD Xenoarcheology, sighed as more bored graduate students shuffled through his office. Living on a meager stipend, often supplemented through other means, these youngsters had the unfortunate task of actually checking the storage rooms below. A Marine was sent with them, purely because rumors in Mars City of strange happenings were causing minor panics. Panics that mattered because some of the students' parents were wealthy Union Aerospace Corporation shareholders. Still, the Marine grunt found his duty as boring as his charges did.

"And here" he said, having been pressed into reading a tour-guide script for these "fresh off the shuttle" types, "we have a bunch of statues that were dug up far away from the main sites. Nobody knows what they are for, and to be honest nobody cares."

"Well, they are kind of cool" replied one of the students, who snapped holos with his datapad. "They look like fighters from Mage of Mars III!"

"Oooh, check out this one!" called out his friend. "It has some kind of animals!"

Immortalized in Martian stone, a man with some rather elaborate garb, surrounded by hideous-looking creatures. They weren't attacking him, so most observers would conclude he had some level of control over whatever they were.

"If you all want to inventory this section first, go ahead. I'll be over here. Trust me, nothing ever changes in this warehouse."

The Marine wandered off.

"I wonder who this is supposed to be? Here, get a picture!"

"Someone really _did_ copy Mage of Mars" replied his friend. "Who the hell uses _crossbows_?"

Whether crossbows were appropriate weapons ceased to be the focus of discussion as several fireballs crackled past heads. Two impacted the statue—and to the surprise of all present, nothing happened.

"Didn't they say those fireballs can melt armor?"

The labs knew exactly what was going on—there _were_ troubles in Mars City. But UAC leadership figured they had the situation under control, so why bother frightening people unnecessarily? Sure, teleportation let in a few weird life-forms from another dimension, but they were easily dispatched.

That prodding this realm might prompt _more_ crossovers never occurred to anyone. A flash of orange, and one of the "imps" (as the scientists called them) appeared behind Jason, the one who asked about fireballs. He got his answer—and then some as the imp tore him apart in front of his horrified classmates.

Their screams brought their Marine escort back in a hurry.

"Get down!"

Orange flame spat from his machine gun as he aimed a storm of lead at the demon. The strikes seemed only to anger it as it leapt away, leaving quite a mess behind. Blood splattered onto the hooded crossbow-wielder, some from the demon's claws and the rest as a natural, if disgusting result of what happened when demon claws met vital arteries. Nobody could save Jason Burne, but their guard hoped to save the rest of them from sharing his fate.

Drawn away by the whistle of a "revenant" and its missile launchers, neither soldier nor student paid any attention to what happened next. Where blood fell, red-grey stone changed. From hard rock came the soft leather of boots that left no trace nor gave off any sound of their wearer's passing. Red matching the iron soil outside became darker and more vibrant, closer to the color of blood than Martian dirt. Armored shoulders crafted from unholy materials regained their dull sheen. Wood grain reasserted itself and bowstrings became supple once again. Unseeing eyes returned to their yellow glow once more.

"And so, my hunt continues."


	2. Not Who I Expected

**Chapter 2 – Not Who I Expected**

"Why is the shuttle late?"

UAC Control expected a Phantom carrying a security detail to arrive that morning as a sop to some whiny parents on Earth who were concerned about their students' safety. As if! The only dangerous part of the facilities was Delta Labs—no student, not even postdocs, would be allowed there. If those parents hadn't been such large holders of UAC stock, the whole thing would have never been an issue.

To compound things, there was some kind of dustup going on in Secondary Artifact storage.

"Must be a prank" muttered one of the controllers. "On the day Councilor Swann is supposed to visit for an inspection, no less. Figures."

"Report! PFC Jenkins, come in! You are fifteen minutes overdue for status!"

"He's probably just telling outlandish stories to the students" sighed another controller. "Ever since he got kicked to escort duty he's been trying to 'prove himself.' The only thing he's proven is how many accidents one man can cause!"

"You're telling me. Oh well. Now, let's see what's going on down there…"

Camera feeds from Warehouse 25 showed nothing aside from static.

"Damn it! Are you telling me we have to send a team down there?"

"It's already too late."

A woman stood in the doorway wearing some kind of hooded cloak. A crossbow hung in each hand, dripping blood onto the floor.

[…]

"Get back!" shouted Richard Jenkins to the hapless graduates and postdocs he'd been tasked with protecting. "I'll shoot down its missiles!"

The revenant screamed again, letting off another barrage that Jenkins' machine gun took out of the sky.

"Where'd the other one go?"

"If you see it, let me know" bellowed Jenkins. "Watch out, it jumps!"

As if on cue, said demon leapt at Jenkins but landed short. It crawled toward him, slashing and screeching. Round after round poured into it, finally tipping the monstrosity over on the deck. It disappeared in a red mist seconds later.

"That's one" he yelled. "Now where's your friend?"

Orange flashes surrounded him as more imps appeared. Richard Jenkins lost count of how many shots he fired, how many clips he burned through. Between bursts, he ordered the students to run, as if they needed to be told. Only when his hand came back empty from his ammo belt with sixteen shots left in his gun did he realize exactly how much trouble he was in as two imps stalked toward him.

A dark shadow fell over him, and Jenkins prepared for the end.

Instead, a hooded figure landed between him and those he thought would end his life. Soft twangs he could barely hear heralded the left imp dropping to the deck, leaving but a red stain behind. The mysterious newcomer flipped away again, leaving him exposed to the demon's fireball impacting near his head. Only then did the private become aware his armor was compromised, several deep slashes cutting across his chest. The imp roared in triumph, ready to gut him. Instead, some sort of rope with weights on its ends wrapped around the demon's neck before exploding, drenching him in what he presumed were imp brains.

"You fight the demons?" she demanded, not even introducing herself.

"What do you think this is for?" He waved his gun weakly, then gestured at his chest.

"A valiant effort, but…" Valla couldn't believe this. How could someone just sit there with wounds like that? "Where are your potions? You need one! Now!"

"Look, lady" groaned Jenkins through the pain, "I appreciate your help and all, but you look like you walked out of 'Mage of Mars.' What do you mean, 'potions?'"

"Are there no healing potions here? How are wounds treated?"

Whoever this woman was, she sounded increasingly panicked at something incredibly pedestrian.

"Pass me that medkit, over there on the wall."

"I do not understand."

Jenkins gestured more forcefully. "That white box with the red cross on it."

He opened it, only to find the box empty.

"Who forgot to restock the supplies?"

"Clearly, the same incompetence that allowed the demons to return in the first place."

_What else do these people not have?_

"Who must I have words with about this burgeoning threat?" demanded Valla, having still not given the fallen soldier a name or any other form of identification.

"Base…command" he replied in a pained voice. "They won't…care… This area isn't…"

Jenkins slumped over. This was neither the first nor last time a Demon Hunter would walk away from a fallen ally—it happened all the time. Though they tended to be solitary, any who stood against the Burning Hells earned at least a minimum level of respect and a Demon Hunter would not refuse competent assistance so long as it did not impede his or her mission. Of course, should an erstwhile companion show weakness, cowardice, or judgment toward the Demon Hunter, they would likely be left behind.

"This device is strange" she commented, picking up Jenkins' mostly-empty MG-88. She fired a single shot, having guessed its operation similar to a crossbow. Her eyes narrowed upon seeing the gun's ammo-counter decrease. No matter, any ranged weapon could be useful, though she did note that it took many, many applications of whatever this device emitted to take down a lesser demon that her crossbows made short work of.

She stopped to write in her journal.

_The curse has been lifted. My return to the world of the living suggests that someone is fighting back against the demons once more. I must determine the current state of this place, then my hunt shall resume. The demons are very different._

"Incompetent leaders have been the downfall of crusades against the Burning Hells ever since the Angels twiddled their thumbs while we fought" she spat bitterly. "I can only hope those in charge here are more oriented toward action."

_At least language has not changed since my time._

She followed signs to that led to UAC Control, encountering no more demons on this short journey, though many people stared as she passed. Consequently, Valla found herself standing in a doorway, explaining who she was to a group of shocked workers.

[…]

"So there are a few monsters down there. What's the big deal?" demanded a man who called himself Base Commander Don Bailey. "So long as they stay in the basement, we won't have any problems."

"With that attitude, I am not even going to attempt to explain how wrong you are. Stay out of my way, and there won't be any problems."

Bailey didn't like being talked to like that. At the same time, he needed any help he could get to keep everything under control lest someone find out what was really going on at Delta Labs. His cushy arrangement depended on secrecy.

Valla turned to leave.

He grabbed her shoulder and thrust a PDA into her hands. "If you want some, um, better weapons, the code's on here. 584."

"Touch me again, and you'll spit out an arrow" she snapped, yanking her shoulder out of his grip.

"An incoming ship just went down near the hangar. They were bringing reinforcements to fight off these…_demons_" he said, emphasizing the last word. "You might want to see if there are survivors."

"I do not take orders from you" she replied before disappearing in a black mist.


	3. Modern Marvels

**Chapter 3 – Modern Marvels**

Away from those who made her hatred of demons seem trite in comparison, Valla decided she had nothing to lose checking out this armory even though she refused to take direction from fools who would ignore the spawns of hell.

"5-8-4" she said, clumsily pushing images of numbers. Valla had never seen such things before, but given the current state of what she believed was once her home, she wasn't under any illusions about things being the same as they were at the Fall. With a hiss, a large metal door pulled out of the way, allowing the temporally-displaced Demon Hunter entry.

She saw several devices like the one she'd taken from a dying soldier whose last efforts were valiant, if ineffective along with what looked like strange clothing. It didn't take a weaponsmith to recognize gunpowder, though in her travels very few people used it in any form other than basic explosives (like her bolas). Superstition and the existence of functionally-equivalent magic strongly discouraged investing any further effort into something that when built incorrectly could cost an arm, a leg, or perhaps an eye. Besides, she thought, crossbows were far more elegant and much quieter. Demons were loud enough without adding the din of one's own armament.

Someone stuck a head in.

"Come on! The Phantom's down and is being swarmed by imps! Grab a shotgun and come help!"

In the failing light, her unusual appearance seemed to have gone unnoticed as whoever spoke simply assumed her to be another soldier like the one she'd fought with briefly. Silently, she followed.

"Whoever designed this airlock needs to be shot."

Men advanced one-at-a-time into a cylindrical structure, apparently called an "airlock." What purpose such a construct could serve, Valla had no idea.

"You idiot!" yelled another. "You can't cycle the airlock until it finishes pressurizing. Stop being so impatient, or do you like not being able to breathe?"

_Why would there be issues with air here?_

As the doors opened, Valla vaulted in.

"Wait a minute, is that the crazy chick from the video footage that came out of Secondary Artifact Storage?"

"Does she not know that you… Seriously?"

"Airlock cycling."

"Abort, abort, abort!" yelled one of the Marines, pounding on an emergency stop preventing the outer pressure doors from opening and releasing the inner ones.

Valla found herself gripped by three men and hurled backward.

"Look, I don't know where you came from, but it obviously ain't here" began one, face hidden behind a helmet. "You can't just go outside!"

"You have five seconds to tell me why in the Burning Hells I should not kill you all for standing in the way of the hunt."

Heads tilted in confusion at readied crossbows and the newcomer's odd attire.

"If you want to kill demons, you're welcome to join us. Unless you can live without air though, walking around on the surface of Mars but not wearing a pressure suit is gonna end that hunt real fast."

"Is that what it is called nowadays? When I lived, it was called Sanctuary."

"Uhh, okay…" The men looked confused again, but the one who acted like a leader spoke. "I'm Corey Spencer. Go back to the armory, grab the last set of armor there, and tell them Sergeant Spencer said you could take it if anyone asks. We'll wait here."

_So that's what the strange garment I saw on the wall was. I suppose I am not as behind in this world as I thought._

Nobody stopped her, and nobody waited in the armory to question her. After a series of aerobics that only Demon Hunters could even hope to achieve, Valla managed to stuff herself into this "pressure suit." It wasn't comfortable, and her existing robes bunched up in the most unpleasant of places, but if this was how people dressed nowadays she would go with it if it meant continuing her hunt.

"If you insist on using those...hand crossbows… There were plenty of guns in the armory!" yelled Spencer over the airlock cycling. "Let's go!"

Valla felt her confidence shrink the smallest amount. Clearly, this was no longer Sanctuary and she could not safely assume she knew how everything worked around here, even if the solution to demons (put arrows in them) remained the same. A set of numbers appeared in the lower-left corner of her vision.

"For you newbies out here" bellowed Spencer (as to be heard over the hissing of pressure suits), "you have five minutes of air—there are additional tanks in that pile!"

The screeches of imps would have drowned him out save for Mars having no atmosphere to speak of.

Valla made a mental note to find someone who might know what exactly happened to the world she once knew, but focused instead on the many imps swarming around what she presumed to be some kind of vehicle—likely the "Phantom" referenced previously. Crossbows spat fire, alternating between explosive bolas and arrows imbued with magic that sought out multiple targets. These basic "imps" were rather weak compared to the many types of hellspawn Valla faced in her time with the other Nephalem.

As she dashed around the battlefield, she watched the others. They were coordinated, they fought with purpose. Clearly, they weren't pushovers, but their weaponry proved barely adequate as Valla saw three firing on a single imp—and only after sustained volleys did it drop.

"What in the hell is that?"

A voice! In her head! But she wasn't speaking to anyone. Spells allowed people to communicate over long distances—she chuckled darkly recalling Azmodan's taunts at the Siege of Bastion's Keep.

"If you mean to threaten me" she had said, "you are doing a very poor job of it."

"…doesn't seem to be going after _us_" continued the voice. "It's probably some advanced homing projectile."

Another arrow thirsted for demon blood, taking down the last two imps by passing straight through their heads.

_Focus. FOCUS!_

A feeling of wooziness, dizziness. She knew not why this was happening. The Demon Hunter tried to dash back to where she'd stepped out of with everyone else, but couldn't tell if she made it as darkness took her.


	4. Okay, Let's Try That Again

**Chapter 4 – Okay, Let's Try That Again**

Her eyes opened. Valla tried to sit up, but found herself unable to do so. Her wrists and legs were shackled, though she was apparently still wearing this infernally-uncomfortable armor.

"She's awake!"

For the first time since returning to the world of the living, Valla could see in bright light. With what little movement her head could accomplish, she managed to spy her crossbows on a table across the room. Her quiver sat next to them. Confusion reigned—these people were quite happy to fight demons (if not very well) yet now they restrained her? This made no sense!

As Josen taught, she crushed down her burning hatred so as to remain in control. Surely, these others were not allied with the demons—she could not assume the worst. Two women stood over her. One jumped back and let out a yelp of shock.

"Doctor Hatchnas, what happened to her eyes?"

"Beats me—I've been a physician for thirty years, five of them spent at this godforsaken base. And I've never seen anyone like this."

"You could ask" added Valla acidly. "Not that I'd tell you… And you're right that this base is forsaken. I'd suggest running while you still have the chance."

"We're here to interview you" insisted the woman named "Hatchnas." "We're under orders not to let you leave until we have some information."

"The only _information_ you require is that the hellspawn are going to turn this place into a festering pit of blood and despair."

"I have no idea what you are talking about" sniffed the doctor airily. "All the injuries I've treated here are completely explainable as workplace hazards. Granted, leaving barrels containing explosive waste lying about isn't the most intelligent decision, but I have no power to change that."

"You do have the power to get me out of this inane clothing" grated Valla. "Do so. _Now._"

"Do not make any sudden movements" instructed Dr. Hatchnas. "It would be unwise to trigger the Sentry Bots we have in this room."

Whirring noises alerted Valla to the presence of four constructs, similar in size to a small beast. She'd seen many contraptions built both by the Demon Hunters and forged by Hell itself, but none looked exactly like these.

Valla sat up slowly, not wanting to find out what these small devices were capable of.

"Are you more comfortable?"

The Demon Hunter read a name from the woman's uniform—"Danielle Abrams."

"Yes. You may call me Valla, since conversations without names can become quite tedious."

"What a strange name" hissed Danielle to Karen Hatchnas.

"Okay, so that's one question down" said Dr. Hatchnas. "Age?"

"According to the _Anno Kehjistani_, I have been alive for thirty-two years. I can already tell—this is not the measure of time you use."

"Occupation?"

"Vengeance."

The doctor's eyebrows went up. "That is a rather odd choice of job title."

"My family was butchered or enslaved by demons. I watched my own parents bleed to death—stakes driven through them head to toe as punishment for resisting the cultists who sided with the hellspawn. My brother died on his feet, overwhelmed by the very same. My sister's fate at the hands of those corrupt demon-worshippers and their masters is too depraved to imagine. I was eight years old at the time and hid inside a bedframe until they left. Demon Hunters like myself arrived later that day, and offered me a choice. I could die in the wilderness, or dedicate my life to ensuring others would not share my fate. So yes, while your neat, orderly world might find my choice of occupation odd, it is not without reason."

Both women stood transfixed by Valla's eyes—their yellow glow shone brighter than some warning lights or caution lamps used around Mars City (not that such things often worked in the first place…)

"If you can meet eyes with the hellspawn without going mad, you, too, will be marked."

The doctor was taken slightly aback by the newcomer's story. Either it was well-rehearsed, or something else was at play.

"I apologize if I have offended you" said Hatchnas. "I meant no insult—I have met no one like you, ever."

"It is good to see that at some society endured after our defeat" conceded Valla. "There are…were…others like me who fought the demons, but we fought a losing battle. Against all of the Lords of Hell while the Angiris Council delayed, we fell. Some were battered and broken, but others turned to stone by black magic of the likes none had ever seen."

"For archival purposes, this whole session is being recorded" interrupted Danielle. "Do we have your permission to share it, due to its unique nature?"

"If it motivates these ignorant fools who run this place to stand up against the hellspawn, I shall lend you my own parchment for this purpose!"

Dr. Hatchnas hesitated, before speaking.

"Valla, we do not use parchment here."

She tapped on a video recorder that played back Valla's vehement defense of her choice of job title in the form of a hologram.

"I have seen messages like this from sorcerers. Do not think me simple, doctor. It is you who should worry—your soldiers carry no potions!"

"I think there's been a bit of a misunderstanding" quipped Danielle. "What you speak of, potions, sorcery… None of that exists here!"

She gestured at the Sentry Bots. "This is a world of technology! Of science! All of that sounds like…magic. That stupid game my boyfriend won't stop playing—Mage of Mars III or something."

"And yet, there are still demons invading your 'world of technology.' Do you deny it?"

Danielle passed the skeptical Demon Hunter a datapad, displaying a message sent to base personnel intended to ease concerns about the "monster problem."

_Subject: We've Heard You (Better Defenses Are Coming!)_

…

_Details of Specimen 27 – Imp (partial)_

_Left forearm amputated for biological study._

_Researchers are currently studying how this creature is able to manifest and throw an explosive plasma projectile from its hands._

…

"Perhaps you could enlighten me as to why I require impractical, uncomfortable armor to venture beyond this base, then." Valla handed the datapad back, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

"Are you sure this is where you used to live? I mean, our archeologists haven't found any evidence of human societies, only aliens. We can't even rule out it just being more demons!"

Valla again restrained herself from giving a thorough dress-down and lecture, Josen-style, to these blissfully-unaware people.

"There is dark magic here. It is something you feel in your bones. Walking through it is a dank mist, a foul stench, and an indescribable feeling of pure evil. I would not expect you to recognize it."

"Look, if you expected to be able to show up here, and go babbling on with a plot out of 'Mage of Mars' while having everyone believe you, I think you're a bit… optimistic" hedged Abrams.

"In my world" lectured Valla, "I would simply go around or through anyone obstructing my path. Nobody questions a Demon Hunter—they get out of the way. We owe allegiance to none, answer to nobody, and serve a single purpose: killing as many hellspawn as possible."

She sighed.

"It is clear the freedom of action I enjoyed prior to the Fall will not be honored here. It is a bit of a stretch for me, however, if cooperation will ultimately result in the destruction of more demons than operating on my own I will follow your rules. For now."

Ignoring the implicit threat, Danielle replied "Well, that's a start!" "Who else have you spoken to?"

"I'd imagine the team that brought her here" offered Karen Hatchnas. "Perhaps we should comm Sergeant Spencer. I need his official statement for the medical records anyway…"


	5. Some Things Never Change

**Chapter 5 – Some Things Never Change**

Corey Spencer found himself summoned to the same room he and his men dropped off the air-deprived stranger who wanted to kill demons.

"Must be the medical impact statement" he muttered upon arriving. For the first time, he got a proper look at this crossbow-wielding warrior in the bright lights of an examination room. Without her hood, he saw shoulder-length hair that appeared mainly black, but seemed to shift in hues of grey and blue depending on angle. Piercing yellow eyes glowing like the Sun—Corey realized he had _not _imagined it earlier. She seemed slightly smaller without her armor, but only by a trifling amount. He'd seen women in the Marines who were less buff-looking.

"This world is very strange" she said, very much noticing the Sergeant's examining gaze. "In my time, we were either ignored or looked upon with spite."

Spencer snapped to attention and averted his eyes.

"Apologies, ma'am. I did not mean to stare."

"Though this world is different, and at first glance appeared to be hopelessly blind to the nature of the demonic problem you face, I am not completely discouraged. How many others are like you, who fight back?"

"This is Valla" interrupted Dr. Hatchnas. "She was suffering from minor oxygen deprivation, but you knew that."

"She seems to think it odd that pressure suits are required to venture outside" continued Danielle Abrams. "I was going to explain why, but then you showed up."

"Well, there's no atmosphere here" began Spencer. "There hasn't been for centuries, if not millennia. If what I hear about our archeological digs is right, someone used to live on this world—I hope it was nicer back then! It's thought they were air-breathing like us, but at some point either went extinct or departed."

"You are closer to the truth than you realize" replied Valla. "But not for the reason you think. It is true that this planet you call Mars used to belong to someone else, but we are _not_ extinct."

"We?" questioned Abrams.

"I suppose we just haven't dug deeply enough" suggested Spencer. "Or maybe we didn't dig in the right spot."

"Quite the contrary, you have unearthed many of my fellows. It is clear to me you do not understand magic or the full implications of a demonic invasion. I offer this not as an insult, but a warning. We _lost_ our battle" she said bitterly. "You do not have to lose yours."

Corey made a guess.

"Could you pick up your crossbows, please?"

Confused, Valla dropped down from her seated position on an examination table but complied anyway. She retrieved her weapons and resumed the pose she'd held for what seemed like forever as Diablo's curse flowed over her, freezing the Demon Hunter in that position until recently.

"I remember you!" shouted the Sergeant. "Ten years ago, my first tour! I had to do the grunt work, the shit detail of walking doctorate students around Artifact Storage. I normally would think myself crazy for even suggesting this, but… Were you the statue?"

"You understand!" she cried, throwing off the resigned sense of failure she'd been carrying and placing her weapons back on the table. "Take a look through your 'Artifact Storage' and you will see many like me. As to what reversed the demon's curse, I cannot say…"

"You are seriously going to suggest that this woman was turned into a stone statue?" Hatchnas tried to keep condescending skepticism from her voice and failed. "That violates every known tenant of biology we…"

"So do imp arms" challenged Danielle Abrams. "What physiology do we know that permit summoning fireballs out of thin air?"

"I would advise you focus less on the how and more on what you are going to do about it" suggested Valla. "Do not concern yourself with where the fire comes from, only avoiding it and planting arrows in the source."

Hatchnas threw up her hands.

"Okay, so let's say we both believe you and your crazy story. Great. We're just a doctor and assistant. The real power is elsewhere, and I doubt it will place much credibility in your tales, no matter how dramatically you tell them."

"Yes. I will be there shortly, sir. Was giving a statement to the doctors about the newcomer, sir."

Spencer turned back to the women. "Councilor Swann is here. He's supposed to meet with Dr. Betruger, but nobody knows where he is. I'm to take the Councilor through Delta Labs instead."

Valla kept quiet. She had a feeling this "Delta Labs" place might offer information, but she guessed "Councilor" represented some kind of high-ranking person who had privileged access to places not generally open, something she'd not get into purely on the asking. Demon Hunters were not known as "swift and silent" for nothing—she'd sneak in, learn what she could, and apply whatever knowledge gained in the fight.

_It helps that the lighting here is worse than most castles. In fact, candles would probably offer steadier illumination than these flickering white glowing tubes._

"Sergeant, you never actually gave your statement" protested Abrams as the man turned to leave.

"Oh. Right. The reason I came here."

Valla took advantage of this delay. Crossbows vanished from one table, her robes from another. Behind a curtain, it took the Demon Hunter less than a minute to switch from medical garments to her blood-red battle dress. One more dash and, quiver recovered, she disappeared out the door to await Corey Spencer's departure. She realized her own non-presence would likely raise alarms, but she further assumed none present were competent enough to track her.

"Well, that's it. I can't believe they make me fill out paperwork for this" grumbled Spencer.

He moved away slowly, too slow for Valla's tastes. She tried to predict his course, dashing ahead and correcting as-needed. As she made her first move, she overheard the two healers openly wondering where their patient had gotten to.

"I am _not_ filling out more paperwork!" said Spencer loudly, taking off into a jog before Hatchnas or Abrams could corral him.

"Much better" murmured Valla, following. One slip-up led to a chalice of some kind crashing onto the floor and breaking, but nobody attributed it to anything other than clumsiness. In fact, she overheard more than one comment about "demons" as she continued tailing Spencer. Though she'd only visited a small fraction of this place, Valla recognized the sergeant's path—he was headed back toward where she'd berated several workers for not doing anything about the pending hellish invasion.

She watched Spencer show some kind of identification. About to dash into whatever chamber he entered, she found her progress halted by a heavy door. Beams of light entered the chamber, sweeping back and forth over his body. Had she not just been lectured on this being a "world of technology," the Demon Hunter would have written it off as some Wizard spells. Her sneaking skills would've been useless there either way, so she supposed were she of faith she would have given thanks to Akarat.

"Crusaders" she muttered. "Strange folk…"

A black mist crossed in front of the eyes of a bored technician responsible for ingress/egress at Mars City's primary docks.

"I am not seeing demons. I am not seeing demons. I am not seeing demons" he chanted.

"Councilor Swann. I apologize for the delay, we had a small issue that led to, I'm sure you can guess: paperwork."

"I am a man of the law, Spencer" replied this "Swann" somewhat haughtily. "Such things are my profession. Now, any word about that slippery Betruger? If his work wasn't going to offer such great profits…"

"His non-presence is the reason you are touring the labs today."

Swann sighed. "Given Betruger's past boasts about teleportation, it will be nice to finally be able to report to the Board whether or not his grand plans have produced anything justifying their trillion-dollar investment in Delta Labs. You know, the whole spending money shipping things to Mars so that we won't have to pay shipping costs to Mars anymore…"

Spencer chuckled.

"Indeed, this contradictory mission would have been far easier if this could have been done on Earth."

Swann didn't answer. His suspicions were about to either be confirmed or Betruger was pulling the biggest prank imaginable. Though nobody living in Mars City was aware, the parents squawking about "demons" had support that extended beyond simple money—many on the Board were increasingly disturbed by what small amounts of data Betruger's science division sent back in mandated progress reports. Teleportation remained a worthy goal, but the increasing aggressiveness of who-, or _what_ever lived in that other realm (and Betruger's utterly nonchalant attitude about it) gave the Board pause.

Some even whispered about Betruger's well-being, a polite way of suggesting his repeated trips "over" might have damaged his mind.

"The new monorail cars should have been installed by now" commented the Marine casually, trying to change to a less-morbid subject. "No more hard metal seats!"


	6. Long Way Around

**Chapter 6 – Long Way Around**

"It is convenient that these people leave containers everywhere" said Valla to herself as she dashed from one stack of boxes to another. Unfortunately for her, it became increasingly difficult to remain framed in shadows as the pair approached something she heard them call the "monorail." Fewer crates scattered about the halls, and sources of illumination no longer flickered but remained steady.

"What was that?"

Valla silently cursed herself as what looked like a box with glowing tubes sticking out of it clattered to the floor.

"Oh don't tell me you've fallen into the 'demons everywhere, scared to go outside' group" laughed Swann. "There may be a few loose…_things_ in the labs but I assure you, if our procedures were followed they are perfectly contained."

_That's the problem_ thought Spencer. _What if they weren't followed? Since the ones I ran into at Secondary Artifact Storage were definitely not in the labs!_

He didn't tell Swann about his encounter earlier. It sounded as though the lawyer wouldn't believe him, so why waste the time?

"Demons take me" fumed Valla as her targets moved through a large set of doors. Nothing but open space for lengthy distances on left and right. Lights bright enough to reveal anything that wasn't supposed to be there. No amount of Demon Hunter training could work with that. Benches lined the walls—she guessed people waited here for something, perhaps this "monorail."

On cue, it showed up. It looked like a cart or carriage, but had no wheels that she could see.

"Good. At least something around here works!" boomed Swann jovially. "You're right, Sergeant—these are the new models!"

With a hiss, doors slid shut.

Inside, Swann tapped a console.

"Maintenance detour. Of course. Yes, I understand I may be subjected to dangerous conditions due to ongoing developments at Delta Labs. Yes, I waive all claims."

His voice became increasingly irritated.

Corey rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me—there are magnet problems on the Delta Labs track again?"

"We've had that problem for years!" complained Swann. "Ever since Betruger's experiments started…"

A whirring noise startled Valla as whatever it was pulled away. She looked up.

"MONORAIL STATION" stuck out in big, bold, raised letters.

"Well, that answers that" she concluded. "Now, where can I find another?"

Turning to the wall, she saw a lit list.

BARRACKS – 5 min

ENPRO – 10 min

DELTA LABS – 15 min (DETOUR)

ALPHA LABS – 20 min

BARRACKS – 25 min

The list stopped there. Thankfully for her, notions of time had not changed since her imprisonment, though she ended up hiding in a utility closet to avoid several people boarding for "ENPRO." Finally, a carriage (she couldn't think of any other word) arrived for "DELTA LABS."

"Please provide identification for access to restricted area."

_Why in the Burning Hells did I not think of that?_

"Failure to provide identification will route this tram to the Barracks for processing."

Seeing a handprint shape appear, she removed one glove and tried it. Unsurprisingly, "Access Denied – Handprint Not Recognized" greeted her.

"Transferring to Barracks. Please remain calm."

The interior turned red.

"This will be interesting."

[…]

A bored private on watch shift perked up at seeing an alert on his terminal.

INCOMING UNVERIFIED – DELTA LABS

"Sarge!"

His sergeant turned about, awaiting her troop's report.

"We have an incoming unverified, Delta Labs!"

The sergeant sighed. Another idiot who pressed the wrong damn button? Or someone who thought they could talk their way into a place few people even had any idea existed?

"I'm going to wring those programmers' necks" she growled, "if we get another fat-finger!"

A monorail tram, its exterior lights solid red with "SECURITY" taking over its identifiers, pulled into the Barracks. No profile could be seen inside, so whoever set it off was either cowering, or it was another malfunction with the tram control system.

"Would it be too much to ask" barked the sergeant "for something to work around here?"

Lights in the tram bay flickered, just as they did almost everywhere else in Mars City, the labs, and the whole rest of the poorly-maintained base. The only areas seeing any form of regular maintenance were the labs (allegedly—hard to believe with the number of deaths combined with poor lighting) and any area a high-ranking corporate might venture, such as the tram station in Mars City.

In this atmosphere, Valla quickly exited the moving box once its doors opened. Though she saw heads turn (vaulting did leave a slight trail that those of astute vision might pick up on), nobody honed in on her location behind (surprise) yet more crates.

"Those programmers are really going to get it this time!" bellowed the Sergeant after searches of the tram turned up nothing. "That's the fifth empty car we've gotten in the past six months!"

She knew she might die right here, or be forced to take up arms against people who should have no quarrel with her, but Valla took the risk anyway.

"This was not empty" she declared loudly, standing atop a box.

Weapons pointed in her direction, but were not fired.

"Who are you?" demanded one who she presumed to be in charge, recognizing her insignia from Corey Spencer's she'd seen earlier. "Why did you try to access Delta Labs?"

"You are warriors. You should know" she fired back. "You are here because this city and its inhabitants are not safe. Mere wardens would suffice in absence of demons—but you are military! Ask yourself why you are here, and you shall have your answer."

"I am Sergeant Audrey Manning, and you are in direct violation of several directives" she replied loudly. "I have no idea who you are, so if you were going to try to convince me to toss regulation aside you'd better come up with a reason!"

Manning realized the stranger's eyes glowed yellow, an odd thing indeed given the only other glowing eyes she'd seen were on demons. How could she be sure this caped crusader wasn't a demon too?

_Demons don't ask nicely_ she thought.

"Will you permit me to make my case?" asked Valla.

"Disarm her and take her to an interrogation room" ordered Manning. She, too, contacted base superiors regarding a red-dressed woman wielding old-looking weapons who wanted to do things she wasn't supposed to.

Valla reluctantly surrendered her armaments, this time consciously. She smirked in amusement at the befuddlement of those taking her crossbows, quiver, bolas, and other demon-destroying machinery away. She only hoped she could convince them of the danger this "Mars" now faced.


	7. Pickled Demon

**Chapter 7 – Pickled Demon**

"I don't understand what the point of the Barracks track to Delta is" said Swann. "It's roughly the same length as the direct route…"

"Security" replied Spencer simply. "If someone tries to get into Delta that doesn't have access, they get shunted to the Barracks instead. Means we get to find out who it is, what their motives are, and whether they actually pose a threat. Or it's just another person who pushed the wrong button…"

"I told them last time I was here to wall off Delta Labs access behind a hand-print instead of asking afterward!" fumed Swann. "You know, so there are no more accidental unverifieds. Looks like they followed my suggestion as well as I could expect."

"It's Mars" said Spencer. "They think because the Board and shareholders are hundreds of millions of miles away, they can be sloppy."

"I'm here to bring accountability" snarled Swann, suddenly angry. "The Board's fed up with Betruger's ever-increasing budget with no results and all sorts of strange, unexplained happenings. We aren't going to wait around forever—the clock's run out and someone either shows me something today or there will be hell to pay!"

_And those creatures crossing over from wherever he's actually doing his work are dangerous. Either we find a way to contain them or the whole place gets shut down!_

The pair zoomed through the Barracks without stopping—Swann's authentication didn't need to be checked again. One uneventful trip later, the lawyer and the soldier arrived at Delta Labs.

"Handprint, retinal, you know the drill" droned a bored checkpoint operator.

"Back to the pickled brain room, huh?" said Spencer.

Moving forward, there were indeed various samples preserved in fluid, everything from imp claws to entire "hell knights"—massive beasts towering at ten feet or more in height with enough musculature to brutally crush prey or those who were foolish enough to attack it.

Swann's impatience showed through. "I've seen all this before. Take me back to the teleporter rooms!"

"At least I got off the sample teams. I'd almost rather go back to showing students Secondary Artifact Storage than that…"

"Where's your sense of adventure?" asked Swann jovially. "Join the Marines, see Mars!"

"And get plasma thrown at you" replied Spencer, unimpressed. "Not anywhere on the recruiting poster!"

"You and me both" replied the lawyer. "You don't like getting jumped by imps, and I don't like paying out hazard claims or, heaven forbid, death settlements. Look at all this!"

He gestured to the dozens upon dozens of tanks holding various demons in whole or in part.

"Doesn't Betruger have enough pieces by now?"

"That's the point, kid" growled Swann. "He has more than enough pieces. He could probably stitch half of these back together and have himself a nice little army!"

"I assume the Board knows about this?"

"For your own sake, I can't tell you." Swann looked like he did want to say more but was restrained, somehow. "Suffice it to say that the Board is not happy with the pricetag of what was supposed to be a slam-dunk profit after we dug up the first useful artifacts."

Further identification was required in order to access the Teleportation Wing.

"This would have been the salvation of mankind" sighed Swann, almost sounding nostalgic. "But then we find out the dimension we're teleporting through takes the worst parts of most religions and makes them real—hell itself! And…_things_…live there."

"I don't know why people bother trying to keep this a secret" said Spencer. "I mean, someone sent out a base-wide email detailing findings about imp arms and how better defenses were being created. If you're going to try to pretend there aren't any monsters here, that's not the way to do it."

"Ah, here we are."

A small ring sat on a similarly-sized table. Several yards away, an identical ring—vertical, mounted in a half-circle frame attached to a base. Both had thick cables protruding, connected to multi-cell plasma-based power units brought straight from EnPro to meet their voracious energy needs.

Swann casually tossed a small foam ball left near the experiment through the first ring—it appeared instantly from the second, retaining velocity and vector. Notably, white foam now looked red, and it became wet to the touch.

"Still haven't figure that out yet, huh? Nobody likes _blood_ on their deliveries!"

The inspector took note of several large crates he'd seen on his last tour being absent. Pointing this out, he said to Sergeant Spencer "I hope that means he's actually making real progress this time!"

"The last time there was progress, I got sent through a portal to hell!"


	8. Talk is Cheap

**Chapter 8 – Talk is Cheap**

"You are clearly not from these parts, and this is the only reason I am granting you a reprieve rather than tossing you in a brig" began Audrey Manning. "Your odd choice of weapons alone screams 'out of place, out of time.'"

"Speak to Corey Spencer" replied Valla icily. "My weapons may _look_ dated, but compared to your gunpowder? You might as well be throwing pebbles at the demons."

Manning didn't like this "Valla's" attitude, but she had to admit after watching helmet footage the woman's crossbows and arrows whose behavior defied physics were far more efficient at taking out imps than the standard-issue MG-88. The Sergeant spent no time wondering how all of this worked, instead focusing on Valla's allegation that a critical threat was being ignored.

"If I didn't have this inventory here, I wouldn't give you the time of day" she said, holding a datapad.

Artifact S231510114, "Woman With Crossbows," no longer existed in Warehouse 25. No trace of it remained, though blood splatters from Jason Burne's fatal encounter with an imp could still be seen on the floor, ending where its base had once been. Nearby Artifact S527124, "Man With Beasts," remained as unmoving as ever, partially visible in the light from a security camera reinstalled after the dust-up.

"That would be Nazeebo" said Valla as if explaining to a child. "A Witch Doctor, his kind communes with the spirit world and summons beasts to do his bidding."

Audrey let out an audible breath that hissed through her nose.

"Your healer's report should confirm that I was once the statue that you called 'Woman with Crossbows' said Valla smugly in response to clear disbelief on the Sergeant's part.

"I am surrounded by monsters and have walked within what we call Hell itself! All of these things have rigorous scientific explanations—your claims and actions do not" huffed Manning. "This is what bothers me."

"Does it matter?" challenged Valla. "Your eyes do not deceive you and I mean you no harm. My enemies are your enemies. I fail to see any problem."

"The problem" replied Manning testily, "is that you're telling us we're doing everything wrong and are missing the biggest threat ever. One that we've been dealing with for years without any of the consequences you're implying. So you'll have to excuse us for finding your claims hard to believe."

"Then I will tell you the whole story."

[…]

"Pride, before the fall" snarled Valla, dodging yet another Angelic attack.

Imperius, faced with clear evidence the Nephalem were correct regarding attacks by Hell, flew into an inconsolable rage at being proven wrong. He ordered the rest of the Angels to remove the "Nephalem blasphemers" from the High Heavens. In this, he found himself alone—the Angiris Council refused to take sides between himself and the mortals, instead devoting their efforts to repelling Diablo's army.

Solarion flew past Valla's head, impacting instead an armored destroyer that sought to surprise her. The Heavenly Host were without their most powerful warrior, wounded though he had been as he focused single-mindedly on the elimination of those whose very existence offended him.

"You brought this here, and thus bring your own death!" thundered the Angel, recalling his weapon.

None of the Nephalem, engaged in brutal combat, bothered to respond.

Nazeebo's beasts withered against demonic assault, only to be reborn when his magic called for it. His Gargantuan crushed bile crawlers under its feet. Fetishes swarmed, hacking and slashing at anything in their way. Sonya's blades crashed through demons, cleaving them into pieces with swings strong enough to rend even the shell of an armored destroyer. Whirling about in a tornado of fury, the Barbarian cut down swaths of hellspawn wherever she went. Watching Kharazim go hand-to-hand with Diablo's minions made Valla shudder, but protective fire falling from the sky courtesy of Li-Ming made it less painful to watch. Magic—convenient for destroying one's enemies without worrying about smiting allies.

Meanwhile, her crossbows sang, planting arrow after arrow into those who would tear her apart. Even the heaviest Demon Hunter garments paled in comparison to stout armor worn by the likes of a Crusader or Barbarian, so she kept her distance. Some called them cowards for using crossbows. Most of these people ended up whimpering pitifully behind lone Demon Hunters who ended up saving their villages—and those who could actually have a chance against a Demon Hunter in combat knew better than to do so. Why fight each other with Hellspawn everywhere?

Yet, here they were fighting Imperius instead of focusing on Diablo, if only because the Angiris leader first aimed his wrath at Tyrael. Aware of their mortality, the Nephalem nonetheless threw themselves into the fray to protect the one now-fallen angel who actually offered them any assistance.

A strangled roar yanked attention away from demons. Solarion found its mark, and Sonya, though wounded, kept fighting in typical Barbarian fashion. But magic and fortitude could only do so much to combat a spear through the chest, especially one fueled by the Light. Without a healer, her death was almost certain. She whirled about, using her own blades and the ends protruding from her to bash demons that swarmed, smelling the fall of prey.

Valla didn't want to believe it. Neither did the others—it was known Imperius blustered about the blasphemies of mortals in Heavenly realms, but to actually follow through drew condescending gasps (even in the middle of a battle) from both angels and the Nephalem.

When Diablo dove from the top of the Crystal Arch to land in front of Imperius, whose wings faded from the corruption now climbing the most sacred structure, more than one observer secretly hoped the battle would not be as nearly one-sided as most pitting Hellspawn against the strongest angel. Diablo's clawed hand grasped Imperius by the shoulder, hurling him over the former's back and slamming him into the ground. The angel's disgusted allies opened fire on the Prime Evil, but they might well have been throwing bales of cloth for all their attacks did.

Imperius' undamaged arm raised, calling Solarion to his side, but the spear remained where it was—skewered through Sonya the Barbarian's torso as she lay broken and bleeding on the putrid, corrupted ground. Massive hands and waves of fire pushed the downed angel even further from help. Deprived of his Light-infused power, Imperius left the world with a sickening crunch as both of Diablo's feet slammed into his torso.

Roaring in savage triumph, the Prime Evil called on all the Darkness he could. Too late, Nephalem became aware of hellish runes glowing beneath them before flames engulfed every non-Hellspawn combatant on the battlefield. Had they not turned to stone, eyes would have borne witness to anyone aside from themselves and the Angels (Tyrael included) turning to ash.

[…]

"I'm guessing Artifact S3141592653, 'Large Woman Impaled,' would be Sonya then?" asked Audrey Manning after Valla finished her story.

"Indeed" replied the Demon Hunter. "Though, I have not seen her in this world."

Manning felt torn between laughing at the ridiculousness of these tales and the very real fact that what was once a statue now walked in front of her as living flesh. Plus, in a society where teleportation remained under active study and horrible monsters could appear in flashes of orange light, were all these claims actually as ridiculous as she first thought?

"Since the medical report is staring me in the face, I don't think it would be reasonable of me, as weird as I find this, to dismiss the notion that these statues have some…scientifically-inexplicable properties. But that doesn't get you a pass into Delta Labs."

"If you insist. However, should you wait this out long enough, the demons will find you, no matter where you hide."

Following this exchange, transmissions out of said labs took a wrecking ball to the status quo.


	9. How Many Demons

A/N: No motivation = no update, hence the delay.

**Chapter 9 – How Many Demons…**

"All personnel report to action stations immediately" droned the warning. "Containment breach in progress."

Valla said nothing, vaulting through an open door.

"Shit. Either this is a coincidence, or that 'Valla' wasn't making things up." Manning didn't really have to give any orders—first, they were coming in over loudspeaker anyway and second, it was pretty obvious what was expected. Grab your gear, and head to the labs.

Upon arriving, the Sergeant was surprised by neither the mess nor Valla appearing from the back of one of the trams.

"Figures" she muttered. "At least she's useful…"

The tram in front had been scorched by plasma thrown by imps and the occasional hell knight. Machine gun fire crisscrossed the platform, having already knocked out the few non-emergency lights, leaving everything in a reddish tint. Injured and dying marines running security at Delta lay everywhere, some being attended to by their colleagues, others being "attended" to by vicious imps. Blood all over the place. Not that anyone noticed in the lighting, unless retrieving a fallen soldier's weapons, anyway.

Valla could barely be seen due to a combination of her own speed (bordering on the inhuman) and choice of garment color (red, in red lighting). Unfortunately for marines sent by the Union Aerospace Corporation, their slackjawed awe at arrows cutting through multiple targets, rickety-looking turrets that spat all manner of munitions, and bolas that wrapped demon appendages before exploding left them vulnerable. More than one died with his eyes glued to Valla or her equipment.

"You know, this would be far more effective if your soldiers focused on the demons!" she yelled to the Sergeant who'd interrogated her.

Manning silently agreed, barking commands to her squads to "focus fire on the largest units" and "avoid distractions." Ordinarily, she'd then give them a lecture about not being ruled by their lower brains, but in this case there was no such blame to be had. This woman's weapons and combat style were completely foreign, and thus a legitimate source of curiosity.

"If we could get bullets like those arrows, hoo boy those demons would die fast!"

An imp lunged toward a squad of soldiers. Their machine guns spat lead into it, and while the monster managed to scratch up several, it wasn't anything medkits wouldn't fix in short order. With a screech, the hellspawn dissolved in an orange flash. What could only be described as flying skulls (or "lost souls") swooped down from vents, being small enough to fit inside. Of course, demons hardly needed to try to crawl through tiny (less than half a meter) ventilation shafts when they could simply appear in a fiery burst of teleportation.

An arrow diced through one, two, three(!) of these floating heads before disappearing, leaving a trail of smoky puffs in its wake as each target disintegrated.

Finally, some heavier firepower showed up for the UAC defenders. Several were armed with plasma guns—effective, lightweight, but also hideously expensive. Of course, this limited deployment to those favored by people controlling the purse strings, which meant wielders were picked due to connections rather than combat skill. Others wielded the tried-and-true rocket launcher, causing explosions that sent demons scrambling for cover.

Revenants responded in kind, launching their own rockets. The screech of these abominations caused newer soldiers to cover their ears and duck. Manning and others whipped them back into shape.

"It's _your_ family that's going to be facing these _in their bedrooms and kitchens_ if you don't get your asses back out there!" she bellowed.

[…]

Malcolm Betruger couldn't help himself. Alone, having deactivated every piece of security via Elliot Swann's all-access keycards, he laughed insanely to himself. While everyone worried about the mess now spewing out of Delta Labs, he would create an even bigger invasion, bringing the full forces of the place named Hell by inhabitants of his universe to bear.

Betruger would strategically place technology handed to him on the other side at key points beyond the perimeter of Mars City. Such devices would connect together, creating a continuous breach between the two dimensions.

First, though, he would need to reroute Solar Control to supply these machines with energy. Nitpicky environmental types (as if there was an environment on Mars that needed to be protected) insisted on producing some power for the settlement in orbit. These old _StarFire_ platforms used ancient photovoltaic arrays whose efficiency and cost of production had long ago been surpassed, making their use questionable. However, they still counted for whatever "sustainability" credits the Union Aerospace Board was after, so they were placed in geostationary orbits to beam their energy back to the surface. Unlike heavily-secured-and-monitored EnPro, changing the destination of these birds would escape notice since they were only maintained twice a year.

The extreme power output from plasma cells enabled the creation of a "null-output propulsion system"—also known as a reactionless drive. By manipulating space itself, a ship powered by a NOPS engine could move without using thrusters or other highly-visible emissions that normally allowed easy tracking of a spacefaring vessel. Without propulsion trails to conceal, stealth in space became a real possibility instead of a science-fiction pipe dream.

Betruger accessed the codes for _Project Shadowstalk_, or, rather, "Elliot Swann" accessed the codes. The whole assembly, called _Lunar Ghost_, relied on three things: plasma energy, its _Windrunner_ second-generation NOPS engine, and its _Whisperwind_ sensor scrambler/concealer that made the ship 99.9% indistinguishable from interstellar noise. Using it, Betruger would be able to quickly access the seven StarFires' ground control stations, plant his beacons, and return to the city as a conqueror without his activity being tracked.

The tricky part would be taking off. _Lunar Ghost_ hung magnetically suspended in a massive hanger seemingly far too spacious for such a small craft. The reality of NOPS was that even in their second generation, space-warps came out larger than needed, affecting much more than just the area of space in which the ship resided. Activate too close to something, and whatever it was would "fall" through space alongside the ship, at a minimum risking collisions and in the case of a first-generation vessel, the destruction of half its test facility.

As a scientist, Malcolm Betruger knew when to read the instructions—so he pulled the purple binder (both incapable of suffering from battery/screen failures and universal for "takeoff") from a nearby shelf inside _Lunar Ghost_'s cramped cockpit. Manual launch could be accomplished unaided or with a magnetic catapult. Since _Ghost_ carried NOPS as its prime mover, other thrusters were undersized and mostly meant for maneuvering, but they could be used in 400% overdrive to launch in a pinch…


	10. Split

A/N: Sometimes it just takes a while to find the inspiration to pick up a project again. Knowing people are reading it helps too (I don't want to leave anyone hanging if I can help it).

**Chapter 10 – Split**

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" snapped Audrey Manning as a base-wide alert went out due to incursions in, of all places, Secondary Artifact Storage. "What could they possibly want from there?"

Two blood-splattered soldiers demanded their commander's attention.

"Ma'am, the labs have been breached. All the outer doors are unlocked!"

"What do you think is going to happen when there's a demonic explosion from the inside?" she barked back, before realizing anyone with full access to Delta Labs would have in their hands advanced technologies she'd only heard rumors about, such as a stealth starship.

Manning almost threw her MG-88 out of frustration after hearing new orders. With Hell pouring into the UAC's most advanced research facility, some suit wanted people to defend Secondary Artifact Storage?

_May Hell take you, Elliot Swann!_

Valla snapped the other woman out of her rage by pointing out that the existence of other statues like hers might both give the demons a reason to invade there and be something worth protecting.

"If this is what I think it is" said Valla, "you'll need all the help you can get. Come, the hunt continues!"

Meanwhile, screams echoed through Secondary Artifact Storage. A member of the janitorial staff had been trying to shoo people (mostly students doing homework and kids staring at the monster stone statues) away so he could clean said statues. His last words were masked by the shriek of revenants and the pounding footstep of hell knights.

Fireballs crashed into Artifact S527124, "Man With Beasts," not causing any noticeable damage. Rockets swirled toward it from the shoulders of revenants, while imps scratched and bit at the imposing structure. Blood from the slain janitor splattered over the figure's boots. Like S231510114, "Woman With Crossbows," color and texture seeped slowly back into stone. The ceremonial skull Nazeebo held in one hand once again swung back and forth as white returned to his eyes.

"Have I died?" he wondered aloud. "This is not what I was led to believe the Mbwiru Eikura would be like."

"Eeeek!"

Several frightened students backed away—while Nazeebo probably rated among the kindest of the Nephalem, his appearance suggested otherwise with a huge mask, skull-in-hand, and a terrifying menagerie of beasts at his side. It only took him a single glance to realize the demons who'd cast him to stone not only lived on in a different form but were rampaging throughout…wherever he was.

"Please, stand behind me."

His nonthreatening tone creeped the students out more than a horde of fetishes or pack of revenant dogs. Nevertheless, they complied seeing as this newcomer wanted to protect them from the very things that had slaughtered one of their own very recently.

"Rise, gargantuan!"

From the ground came a monstrous _thing_ none could identify. Its massive arms swung at the demons, so nobody complained. Its roars shook the whole compound, and its great bulk made it roughly the size of a hell knight.

"Did something escape the zoo?" demanded Sergeant Manning, arriving in Secondary Artifact Storage with Valla and a squad. It didn't take the newcomers long to figure out what was making the ruckus.

"Something else from your time, I presume?" asked Manning, firing her machine gun at a hell knight but trying to avoid hitting the source of the noise.

"A gargantuan" answered Valla. "That must mean Nazeebo is alive."

"Spread out!" barked Manning. "Find civilians, researchers, janitorial staff, anyone who's not cleared for combat, _and get them out of here!_"

Moments later, a call for "the woman in red."

She'd known this was coming, but didn't want to think about it. It would be the only time Valla ever recalled a Barbarian dying in such a pitiful, pathetic manner—slain not by a worthy foe but by the treachery of the so-called "Angels" who were supposed to be a bulwark against demonic forces.

"Do not… Do not leave me to wander" pleaded Sonya.

Valla didn't have it in her to sully her fellow Nephalem's last moments with the knowledge that Arreat had likely been lost to time (if not demons).

"Do not worry, friend. I shall bury you."

Manning didn't care that it appeared this woman couldn't be saved—_nobody _got left behind.

"MEDIC!"

It ended up taking four soldiers to heft the woman who Valla referred to as "Sonya."

"Clear a path and cover fire!" yelled one of the medivacs. "Hell knights obstructing evacuation!"

A storm of lead crashed into the two demons. Slammed by metal, pierced by crossbows, and slashed up courtesy Nazeebo's gargantuan, the monstrosities faded into red mist.

[…]

Malcolm Betruger engaged _Lunar Ghost_'s _Windrunner_ NOPS and _Whisperwind_ cloak once clear of the ship's berth. Solar Control had been built so long ago that it was no longer close to any of Mars City's main facilities, instead requiring a trek many kilometers into the "wilderness." A quick check of civilian space control showed no mention of an "unauthorized departure," and while _Ghost_ lacked the hardware to decrypt military channels there were also no missiles being flung his way. Good.

It helped that hangers for _Ghost_ weren't exactly in a public area, so no prying eyes would spot his thievery.

He grabbed some gear he'd need—a maneuvering pack. _Sans_ specialized landing cradle, Betruger would have to put _Ghost_ in hover and very carefully exit/enter via rather unconventional means. A miss would result in getting torn apart by the space-warping properties of the NOPS.

Digging through many compartments, he was able to locate safety goggles. Their lenses would enable "seeing" where space-warps became dangerous and thus, be able to avoid passing through them.

"Ah, science. Always documenting everything" he laughed.

Poring over decades-old datapads (having scrounged batteries from three different units) Betruger struggled to work with a clunky command-line interface clearly designed by engineers for engineers. Though, to be fair, he'd rather have trouble here at Solar Control than entering/exiting _Lunar Ghost_ (his jump down had been uneventful, even, he dared think, fun). Machines linked to _StarFire_ satellites didn't even use a normal operating system—instead, some kind of specialized distro built only for scientific use that had been further modified to interface with proprietary software by the long-ago bankrupt manufacturer.

** satcontrol –optimize**

"Please specify which satellite (valid digits 1-6, all)."

** satcontrol –optimize all**

"Syntax error. Try satcontrol /? for help."

Thump. Fist met console as Betruger read that all parameters needed to have "-" in front of them.

** satcontrol –optimize –all**

"Error in unit(s) 1, 3, 4 prevents optimization of entire array. Please retry."

Unable to contain his annoyance, Betruger chucked a drained power cell across the room.

Instead of firing up the remaining three not listed as having errors, he deliberately tried to optimize satellite #2 in order to figure out what was wrong. In theory, three of the ancient birds would be enough to power his portal generators, but he wanted a margin of safety in case someone became wise to his scheme.

"Looks like I'm going to have to play technician…"

More manuals. Thankfully for him, the need to actually _go_ to Satellite 4 was alleviated when he discovered that each satellite played host to modified Sentry Bots equipped with welding and repair tools instead of weapons. Betruger didn't know why he felt rushed—nobody saw him leave, nobody paid attention to Solar Control, and consequently, there should be no urgency to his task. Perhaps it was just the excitement of finally achieving his goal as a servant to the Lord of Pride.

"I will bring back the master from the realm to which he was banished!"


	11. Containment Failure

A/N: In response to reviews…

In general: The idea came to me after playing _Heroes of the Storm_, since one of Valla's response lines is "My hunt continues." I thought, "Well, her hunt could also continue if _Diablo_ got crossed with _Doom_ since there are demons everywhere."

Lucario: The phrase you mention is something I've only heard in _Heroes of the Storm_ on the Eternal Conflict map when the angel Ilarian is summoned, but yes, you are otherwise correct about that. Valla isn't necessarily my favorite Hero (ingame I like Nova for botstomps and Jaina otherwise) but her line set off this whole exercise combined with other things noted below.

Doomgal: Maybe not, but I went from being stuck to sketching out the entire plot, so… As for the references, at some point (probably while walking back from the gym) I thought "Windrunner would make a good name for an engine" which led me to conclude that Whisperwind sounds like a great stealth device. Now how do I write that into a story?

**Chapter 11 – Containment Failure**

Lighting problems were common in Mars City. Everyone generally got used to it after a bit of griping ("This company has so much money but doesn't bother to replace burned out bulbs?") and/or tripping on something. However, to cast the entire interior of the base in orange was…different.

"At least I can see better now" muttered a civilian.

Seconds later, an imp bisected his torso.

"Where are they coming from?" demanded Base Commander Don Bailey, before realizing he, too was bathed in an orange glow. Guards in the command center took down several lost souls before they could bite. Bailey looked up in horror, as it dawned on him the entire ceiling now appeared to be one giant demon portal. Unlike the usual, it failed to disappear after letting out a hellspawn or two.

"Lockdown, lockdown!" he bellowed. "All forces, containment level 5!"

In Secondary Artifact Storage, Audrey Manning turned to Valla upon receiving this new order.

"It's hard to contain something when it's coming from _everywhere!_"

"Something must be holding this portal open" replied Valla. "We must find out what."

As the team swept about seeking the edge of the demon-spawner, Valla explained what she'd seen in her own lifetime prior to the defeat of the Nephalem. Some portals were opened by Coven cultists, others by greater demons such as Azmodan.

Crossbow bolts weaved through clusters of imps, while machine gun fire cut down cherubs.

"Those things are creepy" said Manning. "I still can't get past that." She cursed as her gun ran dry again. "We're going to need an armory stop, and I'd rather do it before we all run out of ammo!"

Sergeant Manning gathered survivors, Valla, and the strange man who commanded beasts into a tram, which mercifully somehow functioned. Perhaps it had to do with most forces being recalled as demons had not yet made significant attacks against this station. Of course, it couldn't get them _all_ the way to the barracks—stopping short due to "magnet failures." Key to their next move, the track remained intact.

"Why have we stopped?" demanded Valla. "We cannot exit here!"

Manning rolled her eyes, before remembering Valla's temporally-displaced status. She pointed at a screen at the front of the tram.

"You could no more drive a cart over thin air than advance this tram without the magnets in its track."

Valla cocked her head, looking at the others as if they were the silly ones, not her clad as she was in armor that more resembled a videogame than anything these soldiers ever saw. Extending her crossbows ahead of herself, Valla fired both on parallel, but converging courses. The heavy bolts easily punctured bullet-resistant glass, whistling away until both embedded themselves in the track a significant distance ahead.

Whether by magic or some other force, Valla remained braced while both crossbows ate up the line they'd just fed out, pulling the Demon Hunter, the tram, and her fellow passengers forward.

"When fighting demons around cliffs, such devices are useful" she replied to inquiries as to why her weapons would have such a function.

The barracks contained enough munitions to rearm those who used explosive-based weaponry. Manning ordered each soldier to grab a backpack ("You can carry at least twice as much!" she said to anyone questioning her). Blood-splattered bodies slicked the floor under an orange glow—the demons had spawned here too. Such desperate circumstances led to the opening of the base's Advanced Tactical Storage—meaning plasma cannons for everyone. That some of these showed signs of battle (including blood) did not deter anyone from taking one. Plasma cells were lighter than bullet-laden magazines, and the weapon they fueled far more powerful than the standard-issue MG-88.

"It appears these people have very powerful armaments" observed Nazeebo to Valla as the two stood off in a corner.

"Yet they lack the foresight to employ them properly" replied Valla dismissively. "They did nothing until this…" She gestured upward.

"Convergence?" suggested the witch doctor.

"Yes. That."

"Such an event must have a source" said Nazeebo, "so we must find it and destroy it."

Valla gave the other Nephalem a sideways look, disdaining him for stating the obvious.

"I have attuned my mojo to this disturbance" he continued. "The closer we are to its edge, the more its eyes will glow."

The first good news since she met Manning (a person who wished to _do something_ about these hellspawn) caused Valla's attitude to change immediately.

"Well done! We should communicate this to the others!"

Manning, too, appreciated the development. Realizing her firepower was only useful so long as those employing it remained alive, she instructed several troopers to grab riot shields in lieu of heavy weaponry.

"We cannot assume that this…thing…will follow any logical pattern. Let's start searching perimeter corridors."

"But ma'am" protested one marine, "wouldn't it make more sense for whatever this is to be coming out of Delta Labs?"

"The source of the demons is not the source of the convergence" replied Nazeebo, as if this settled the matter.

Manning decided to just go with what these statues-turned-flesh had to say—they were correct about the threat posed by demons while her superiors had been wrong on a scale that now cost lives. From a practical perspective, there was no compelling reason to _not_ listen to them. It took a half hour of constant fighting until the group (slightly smaller) reached the edge of whatever it was that linked their world with one far less pleasant.

"Looks like one of those phase compressors from the dumb emails we keep getting about 'new defenses'" groused one Marine. "Except, it's backward."

"Technically, they did deliver" replied Manning. "Just…not what we were hoping for."

The complaints of Explosives Specialist Canaan Westfall confirmed what was already suspected—the device, originally intended to _reduce_ demon-spawning related to teleportation as mentioned in base-wide messages had been modified with technology that caused it to perform the exact opposite of its original function.

"And whatever someone slapped onto the compressor, I've never seen this tech before. In fact, it doesn't even look like UAC hardware!"

"Ouch!"

He yanked his hand away, blocked by a green shield that materialized upon getting too close. Punching in the usual access code on a pad that extended beyond the field, he got zapped again.

"Figures they put force fields on these boxes, but don't give us anything other than armor!" he shouted, his voice rising.

"So how do we blow it up?" demanded Manning. "There's always a way to do that."

"Step back, boys!" chirped Sabeen Whitwer, toter of the one working BFG-9000 the squad found in Advanced Tactical Storage. Much to her dismay, the BFG blast splashed harmlessly off shielding, doing precisely nothing.

She pouted. "Nothing could repel energy of this magnitude!"

"What if it's not the _amount_, but the concentration?" asked Westfall. "That blast got spread over the whole shield—if it is focused onto a smaller area it might break through."

Valla and Nazeebo watched with some curiosity as the pair worked with technologies they'd never seen before. Even custom-engineered sentries were not this complicated. The resulting contraption contained a BFG, two plasma rifles, and several grenades.

"Let 'er go!" bellowed Westfall. Whitwer's eyes drooped as her prized loot blew itself apart, channeling its power forward into a searing green-blue beam that ripped through the device's energy field and tore into the addition Westfall noted was not of UAC design before blasting out the other side like a blowtorch. Overhead, orange retreated, leading to cheers from the assembled Nephalem and their Marine comrades.

"We have done it!" shouted Valla. "Onto the next…"

Her words died like their hope as the ceiling disappeared, covered once again by demon portal.

Nor would anything positive come of Sonya's stint under Dr. Hatchnas.

"For reasons I cannot explain, she is dying" reported the doctor simply. "The spear through her torso is not helping, though it is not the reason one would ordinarily think. It is not blood loss or trauma to organs that is killing her—in fact, she should already be dead if that were the case."

Sonya's face contracted into a mask of pain, and her only answers to questions were grunts or gestures.

"If stone can turn into flesh, is it not also possible that this spear has…inexplicable properties?" she noted in her log. "We have tried to remove it, but it has resisted out most powerful cutting tools. Even a Mixom Beavertooth proved unable to sever it."

Actually, the chainsaw's namesake part shattered, ricocheting pieces around the surgical suite. Minor wounds requiring extraction of metal bits resulted, but given the situation such things were judged lower-priority compared to the dozens pouring in with life-threatening demon-slashes.


	12. Dr Betruger, Delta Labs, Demon Portals

**Chapter 12 – Dr. Betruger, in Delta Labs, With Demon Portals**

(A/N: The whole title wouldn't fit...)

"It's obvious there must be more of these things around Mars City" began Manning. "We should find them and destroy them."

Unlike _Mage of Mars_, no helpful guide-arrows pointed to where, exactly, these devices might be. One Marine threw a piece of debris at the orange-concealed ceiling in frustration, only for it to bounce off and hit him in the helmet.

"Hey!" he yelled. "Aren't these supposed to let us travel to their world too?"

Other Marines groaned at this mention of the obvious—but the fact that this particular instance did _not_ allow two-way passage was very significant, as it meant some different technology must be in use.

"We should head straight to the labs!" bellowed Valla. "We must go through the portal and wipe out the hellspawn once and for all!"

"Your enthusiasm is noble, but we should consider the situation" warned Nazeebo. He wasn't going to bring up the incident with Cydaea.

"I guess you'll get me to take you there after all" remarked Manning to Valla. "I agree with your friend though—more information is needed before we just dive in."

On the way to the labs (between killing hellspawn), the Marines were properly introduced to Nazeebo. They found him even creepier than Valla, partially because he looked like a boss from _Mage of Mars_. The fact that he summoned undead animals probably had something to do with it as well. Still, they'd take any ally they could get, supernatural or otherwise.

Manning's eyes narrowed on the approach to Delta Labs' main entrance. The doors weren't supposed to be wide open, but there also weren't supposed to be demons pouring out either. A hail of bullets greeted the party, including demons wielding heavy weapons.

"Shields front!" she ordered.

Calling them "riot shields" vastly understated the capability of gear Manning had ordered soldiers to grab in lieu of additional guns, as they absorbed fire from MG-88s and even soaked up bullets from Mach-2 Chain Guns. It was simply the most convenient name given the appearance of said gear.

"These shields won't hold forever" commented one such soldier.

Plasma guns poked around protective barricades, letting loose hordes of blue balls. Nazeebo glared at one particularly inaccurate wielder as two of his zombie dogs were fried by friendly fire.

"Would you kindly point those somewhere else?" he snapped.

He resummoned his missing pets while the guilty party received a tongue-lashing from his Sergeant.

A massive volley of arrows took down four chaingun-toting demons, after which Valla pulled devices from her quiver that none of the troops had ever seen. They looked rickety, like something out of a children's book, yet they spat all manner of munitions in the direction of their enemies.

"We need to reach the experimental chambers" yelled Manning. Like any proper facility, not every room in Delta Labs had portals or demons—many were simple offices and the entryway held more kitchens and chairs than science equipment.

The screech of imps kept all on their toes. Revenant-launched rockets forced Manning and her squad to hunker down behind their shields again.

"This metal's self healin'" said the second marine, "but it needs _time!_ We can't just keep runnin' into shitstorms like this!"

"We are fighting the spawn of demons" replied Valla icily. "Fairness and time are not luxuries afforded us."

Blood streaked across gray metal floors. The first laboratories encountered by the party were used for experiments not involving teleportation. One woman could be seen dead at her station, her head gone.

"Botanists? Like they had a chance!" remarked one.

A rattle, then a shriek. Orange flames cascaded out from the eyes of a skull floating free of a ventilation grate.

Manning showed the lost soul the business end of her Series 3 Plasma Gun.

"We're coming up on the atrium" said the Sergeant, mostly for the benefit of her new allies.

She looked left, then right. Left again, as if crossing a street.

"Seriously?"

Someone in Delta Labs obviously had connections, which was a given, but this level of ridiculousness had even the cynical Manning shaking her head.

"Who the fuck drags a pair of two quarter-ton statues all the way from Secondary Artifact Storage to Delta Labs?"

"It is a shame Kharazim and Johanna cannot join us" said Nazeebo sadly.

Manning's hands balled into fists at seeing more bodies, not because she hadn't seen enough already but because Corey Spencer had been a friend of hers. His eviscerated corpse, along with a corpulent man in a suit, lay a short distance from the statues.

The suit's name badge had been taken, but Manning recognized the face with its smashed sunglasses.

_Serves that bastard right_ thought Manning viciously. _Giving idiotic orders to split forces! Why? It's too bad Corey had to go with him._

In the semi-darkness, nobody saw Manning's foot meet Swann's cooling corpse, but the wet impact did not go unnoticed.

"What was that?"

She tried to discreetly wipe her boot on one of the statues, bracing herself on the shoulder of a woman hefting a large shield. Said shoulder suddenly moved, completing a swing started eons ago. However, Johanna's mighty blow struck nothing but air.

Manning fell back in surprise, and the sudden movement caused every soldier to turn their tactical lights toward the situation.

Johanna's vision adjusted slowly. This wasn't Hell, nor was it wasn't the High Heavens. It did have one thing in common with what she remembered of both—it reeked of death. Her eyes landed on fellow Nephalem, then the squad of soldiers behind.

"I take it you are off to fight demons. May Akarat bless your efforts where I failed."

Valla quickly explained the situation.

"Then the Crusade is lost" conceded Johanna. "If the demons have won, then all we know is gone."

Those around her wondered if this unidentified woman would give up. Her words certainly suggested she might.

"My name is Johanna, and although my Crusade has ended, if you fight demons, I shall join yours!"

Manning leaned over to Nazeebo, thinking he might be the most well-versed in such things.

"Is it true that, in your time, there was magic activated by…blood?"

"There were many blood magics" he replied at normal volume, as if this were nothing to whisper about. "I suspect that may be what returned Johanna to her current form, judging by the stain on your boot."

Manning would receive no complaints from any of her soldiers as they realized what she'd done—they all disdained Swann's orders as much as she had.

"What are you waiting for?" asked one. "Wake up the other statue!"

Manning sheepishly wiped her boot on "Kharazim" the monk. She'd been fine with doing it while not being observed, but now having all eyes on her caused a feeling of embarrassment.

"I may be the last of my order" breathed Kharazim, "but I will not fade quietly into the beyond! The agents of chaos shall know the wrath of my fists!"


End file.
